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Lycaon
"How are the new legs working for you, my boy?"
Lycaon's answer was as immediate as it was truthful: "They are a wonder, Lord Rick."
Richtover Von Joseph the Third gave Lycaon's gleaming cybernetic legs an appraising glance, his frowning mouth was hidden by his signature large mustache. Since his facial hair moved with his lips, one could easily refer to the angle of Lord Rick's white hair to plainly identify his mood and the cast of his expression- it seemed more his mouth than his actual mouth. To Lycaon's judgment: Lord Rick seemed concerned in a judgemental sort of way.
However, the doubt was focused on the newest iteration of the cybernetic prosthetics that replaced Lycaon's lower legs. These new versions were as comfortable as real legs, so far as Lycaon could remember, and seemed to respond to Lycaon's instinctive signals just like his original, organic limbs- and supposedly, these were still only prototypes. More advancements were planned.
Lord Rick had commissioned these for Lycaon. It was an act that still shocked Lycaon because only a little over a year ago, he had attempted to burgle Lord Rick and it had turned into direct robbery- Mockingbird threatening the man's life for his dennies in the dead of night…
"What do you think I do, you young fools?" growled Lord Rick, looking old and defenseless in his sleeping robe. "That I walk around my own house at night with a billfold full of million-denny notes?"
Lycaon frowned. That was a fair enough point. But his partner, Mockingbird, simply laughed and raised his gun.
"So, you choose your money over your life. As I expected.'
"Wait," said Lycaon uneasily. "What are you doing? We're not here for this."
Mockingbird looked at him, his eyes dilated in what Lycaon had originally thought was fervor, but later realized was insanity. "Lycaon, Lycaon, what have I been telling you all this time?"
He looked back at Lord Rick. "Eat the rich."
Lycaon's conscience impelled him to act. He knocked Mockingbird's gun arm aside, the shot missed, and alarms went off through the mansion.
They'd escaped and Lord Rick had lived, uninjured.
Lycaon disassociated himself from Mockingbird after that; and in return, Mockingbird had disassociated Lycaon from his feet… and abandoned him to a PubSec raid. Lord Rick, for reasons still somewhat vague to Lycaon, had not pressed charges and instead… hired him on as a butler.
"Those legs better be good. They better be the best!" Lord Rick growled. "What with how much they cost!"
"I am very thankful for your generosity," said Lycaon intently.
Lord Rick stopped in the hallway and frowned at Lycaon with a sharp glare. Lycaon stopped with him, immediately trying to think of what he'd just said. He was about to get direct feedback.
"You spoke like a common fool, Lycaon. Think. How could that statement be improved?"
Lycaon's mind raced, his benefactor and mentor's intense attention freezing him in place. All around him stretched the polished hard woods of the Von Joseph villa: one of the few historical mansions that had survived from the old civilization- along with the rest of the vast wealth of the Von Joseph family.
"I used the simple adjective 'very'," said Lycaon after a moment. "An empty word."
"Quite so," said Lord Rick, his bushy white eyebrows raising in expectation. "So: say it again."
Lycaon bowed his head slightly, searching an internal vocabulary that had greatly expanded since he'd been hired on to the Von Joseph estate a year ago; Word choice, diction, two new feet, dropped charges that kept him out of jail, and a job at the Von Joseph estate. Lord Rick had already provided Lycaon a great deal.
"I am gratified by your astonishing generosity."
Lord Rick's eyebrows fell downward in a bored sort of expression. "The 'astonishing' is too much. It makes it seem sarcastic. However, 'gratified' was an excellent choice. Excellent."
The old man looked up at Lycaon with approval, and Lycaon felt a warmth behind the old man's wrinkled visage.
"But I'm not fishing for your thanks, Von Lycaon. You have thanked me plenty. I'm asking because I paid top dollar to buy a top quality product. So: if those legs lack in some way, I want you to tell me. Immediately, Lycaon. Immediately. I won't have you walking around in anything less than perfect!"
"They are perfect, Lord Rick. If they reveal themselves to be less, I assure you, I will inform you."
Lord Rick brooded as he looked at him. "Well worded," he said.
He then continued walking and Lycaon again fell in step with his patron, his new cybernetic feet clomping along the ancient hardwood floor. They reached the mansion's main gallery: a grand, double-stairwell over an expansive and baroque atrium. Entering from one of the first floor's outer hallways, the room presented itself much as it did to anyone stepping through the front door of the estate:
A long, lush rolling carpet of deep maroon and gold pattern stretched unerringly across dark hardwood floors that gleamed with so much polish that they reflected the lamps and the many small crystal chandeliers of the room. Center to it all, flanked below and to each side by a dual stairwell, was a massive portrait of a female wolf thiren, her white fur curling elegantly around her face. Through a specifically and meticulously arranged optical illusion, the central chandelier of the room seemed to be perched up on the woman's head, a gleaming crown of sparkling jewels.
The painting was of the late Yendenel Von Joseph, Lord Rick's second (and last) wife of over thirty years. Lycaon had never met her, as she'd died almost fifteen years before he'd met Lord Rick, but he may as well have met her as there was not a day that passed in which Lord Rick did not mention the woman or make some manner of wistful comment about her. If Lord Rick had a mind to get to drinking, Lycaon could identify the moment Lord Rick was gone over his limit because he would begin weeping from his eyes silently, surely reliving some memory of her in his mind.
But for all the apparent passion of Lord Rick for his late wife, their quiet tragedy was childlessness due to miscarriage- for which Lord Rick blamed no one, not even his god. It was just a natural misfortune of the universe, he would say.
Lord Rick, even now, stopped in the middle of his own entryway and stared up at the face of his wife- the chandelier perfectly aligned in just this spot. He stopped and stared quietly for a long time, Lycaon standing beside him. The man was prone to these long mental forays, but this morning, he had meetings and Lycaon was obligated to remind him of the time.
"What? Huh?" Lord Rick blinked as if returning from another universe, his eyes flickering about the room and then settling on Lycaon, a bright smile of awe on his face forming for a half second before freezing, transforming into surprise, and then settling back to neutral. "Oh, Lycaon, it's you. For a moment, I-"
Lycaon cut him off gently. This happened somewhat often, though more and more in recent days. "You have a luncheon meeting in twenty minutes, sir. Shall we review the solar?"
"Yes," said Lord Rick, blinking to himself. "Yes. Yes, the solar. Let's head there now. Who is it I am meeting again?"
"Your son. The Lord Robert."
"Oh!... blast…" said Lord Rick. "Blast!"
Lycaon had quickly discovered that Lord Rick did not have a good relationship with his son. In fact, it seemed the old man could barely stand Robert. But all the same, Robert was the eldest and only surviving son of Lord Rick, born from his first wife- a woman Lycaon had never met and whom Lord Rick adamantly identified as the single greatest mistake of his entire life.
Busy with providing tea and snacks, Lycaon left them in the solar for a time and then returned with the tea tray. As he approached the door, he could hear raised voices. It was improper to enter a room in the middle of a heated debate, so according to his training, Lycaon hovered near the door and awaited a moment to enter with elegance. But one did not ever appear:
"What do you mean she says the child is yours- and she's wrong?" Lord Rick was saying, tersely. "How could she be wrong about that? Were you with her in that way, Robert?"
"She's a thiren, father. You know how they are. They go into heat and fuck every man around them. I'm sure I was just one of dozens of guys."
"T- that's racist poppycock, Robert! Where do you get these absurd ideas?! Whatever media you consume, you need to get off it!"
"Yes, yes, Father. But what am I to do about this slut, in the meantime?"
"Enough with your foul talk. I mean it!" A silence. "What does this… unfortunate woman want from you, Robert?"
"She wants me to accept her child as mine."
"...That's all?"
"Yes, that's all. She's dying, or something. I don't know. But she says that last thing she'll do is go to the press."
"To the press. For what? Alimony?"
"She says… she says she will tell everyone that the son of Von Joseph, III knocked her up and won't support the child. S- so… I thought I should come see you before our family name is besmirched- or… yeah…"
"B- besmirched! If I knew the future, I would have named you 'Bismirch'. But why do you need my help? Why are you coming crying to me? If my son is a fool and a coward and won't accept the consequences of his own actions- why should I help him? Just pay her out of your allowance. You have more than enough."
"Look, dad. I don't want the world to think I'm some kind of fishfucker. Everyone already knows you went furry, but I still have my reputation. I'm not going to lose that over some slut I met at the beach five years ago."
"So the child is yours, isn't it!? That's your trump card here! You know it's yours and that's why you know I'll help you now."
A silence. "Yeah. We did a test. It's for sure your granddaughter. So what are you going to do, pops?"
A long silence.
"Robert. Give me the woman's details and then get out of my house. I'll take care of this because I know for a fact that you won't! But I want something from you."
"What?"
"Change your name to your mother's maiden name. I don't want my father's name sullied by you. Not any longer. Let my lawyers do it for you."
"Why does it always have to be so personal with you? But whatever…fine. It's a deal."
Some Months Later
A gray and murky day was approaching twilight and the air was full of a mist that could barely be called rain. Lycaon stood in front of the estate, prim in his butler uniform, holding an umbrella over the stiff figure of Lord Rick. They stood in tense apprehension as a black car approached up the long road to the front of the house. Inside the vehicle was Lord Rick's unmet and illegitimate granddaughter. To Lycaon's understanding, the plan had been to provide silent financial support to the child and the mother; but the woman had suddenly died. So… the plan had changed.
Moisture beaded all over the approaching car as if it had recently emerged from a body of water, and droplets streamed away off the hood and windshield as the car turned around the drive at the front of the house. It came to a gentle stop, the hood steaming lightly in the cool air. The driver stepped out, walked around the car, and opened the rear passenger door.
A lanky, black-haired thiren girl stepped out, spindly legs and arms on a thin torso- behind her, a thick, finned tail followed awkwardly behind her. She was a shark thiren, a relatively rare sight this far from the coastal region, and while she had a tail like Lycaon and most other thirens, this child's tail was decidedly stiffer and less flexible than most. The shark tail seemed almost entirely made of thick muscle and cartilage, though slightly gray and looking wrinkled, as if it were malnourished.
She looked a little older than five to Lycaon, though he was no expert in shark-thiren children. If he had to guess, the girl looked closer to eight years old. Lord Robert had either lied about the time frames involved in this situation, or perhaps simply hadn't cared enough to get it right. Both theories were of equal probability.
"Good evening, Ellen," said Lord Rick. "Welcome to my home. Do you know why you are here?"
"...No," said Ellen in a small voice.
Lycaon did not think she sounded scared, however. Just apprehensive.
"Well- Ellen. This is your home now. I am Richter Von Joseph and I am your grandfather. This is Von Lycaon. He will show you to your new room. I hope you will be happy here, Ellen."
Lycaon looked down at the small girl and offered out his free hand. "Come with me, Miss Ellen."
Ellen looked up at him with crimson eyes, her mouth opening in awe. Inside her mouth, she had multiple rows of razor sharp teeth, and Lycaon could see replacement rows deeper in, a forest of spikes waiting for their turn to rotate forward. That was interesting. He'd never known a shark thiren before.
"Okay," said Ellen. "Lycaon…"
She held his hand the entire way through the house, sometimes tightly, sometimes loosely, but always with a vague sort of finger movement that made Lycaon think she was enjoying the texture of his fur.
Some Years Later
Lycaon and Ellen Joe were in the orchard. Their task this morning was pruning, and Ellen loved this sort of work. She had grown a great deal in her time at the estate, already beginning to take on the form of a lithe young woman, though she was still lanky and awkward. Her thiren heritage granted her strength and ability disproportionate to her size, and she could leap to the highest tree tops and snip the thickest branches with her pruning shears with astounding ease. She also loved doing it, and it was one of the few moments that Lycaon ever saw Ellen Joe smile.
But as soon as she landed from her latest series of leaps and snips, her expression returned to the same bored sort of melancholy that she'd had ever since her second day at the estate. Lycaon was no child psychologist, but he was fairly sure Ellen Joe's disposition was somehow related to her earlier childhood and her non-extant parents- but that wasn't his business. His role in regards to Ellen Joe was closer to that of a governess: keep Ellen tidy, make sure she goes to school and does her homework, and also see to it that she learns a healthy work ethic by helping out with the chores around the estate.
He was worried about that last part: Ellen seemed to hate every task put before her. Work ethic might never be in the cards for Miss Ellen, yet Lycaon was obligated to keep trying. And try he would!
Meanwhile, Ellen leaned on her shears and watched someone else do all the work.
"Lycaon?" said Ellen seriously as she watched him pick up some of the branches she had cut down.
"Yes? What is it, Miss Ellen?"
"Do you like me?"
"Of course, Miss Ellen," said Lycaon immediately, still focused on his task. "I have liked you since you arrived here. You are a treasure."
"I like you, too…" said Ellen.
There was a pregnant silence.
"Lycaon?" said Ellen. "Are you going to leave, too? Or can I spend my whole life with you?"
Lycaon blinked up at the teenage girl, shocked, he then stood up to his full height and looked down upon her. He had a vague inkling of the concepts Ellen was toying with and he was mildly alarmed. She was fourteen now. Was this already the age for such thoughts?! Surely not?!
"Y- you can spend as much time with me as you like, Miss Ellen. I am your friend. But I think someday, you will meet someone who you will want to spend your life with more. And then, we will no longer live together in the way we are now. You will have your own house to manage. But even then! We can visit and have tea and cut down vines whenever you might like. For the rest of your life, if you wish, we will be friends."
But Ellen simply shook her head, her crimson eyes boring into Lycaon. "No. There won't ever be anyone else. So: you wont leave me, will you?"
Unsure of how to disarm such a statement, Lycaon attempted to laugh it off. This was beginning to feel like one of those girlhood crushes that happen to people in movies. He should speak carefully. But what to say?
"Well, life surprises us all, Miss Ellen. We both are sure to meet lots of interesting people in the future. You start junior high soon. So be assured: if we are ever to part, it is not soon. And I will never leave you forever, I promise."
Lycaon moved off to pick up more of the vines that Ellen had snipped, worried that he'd accidentally promised to never die. That wasn't what he had been going for, and while he fretted at his own word choice, Lycaon didn't see that Ellen was grimacing at him, her sharp teeth plainly visible.
Ellen Joe was angry. Lycaon wasn't like everyone else. Wouldn't be like everyone else. He wouldn't leave her. Never! She wouldn't let him! Lycaon was hers!
"I don't want anyone," said Ellen quietly to herself, so he could not hear: "And if anyone tries to take you from me, Lycaon…"
Ellen Joe extended out her pruning shears to a vibrant vine with a beautiful bloom on it, and even though she knew she wasn't supposed to: she cut it down, the sound of the snapping jaws of her shears loud in the quiet morning air.
Two Years Later
"Enough with this foolish pretense, Robert!," shouted Lord Rick. "We both know you're just waiting for me to die. I don't need this.. this.. semi-annual facade of filial piety! Get out, Robert! And you need not return until the lawyers call you for the reading of my will!"
"That sounds like you're going to write me out of it, father," said Robert and Lycaon's ear twitched. There was a deep darkness in that statement that he didn't like.
"You don't need to worry about that. You're the only son of the Von Joseph line. I am obligated to pass all that is the family heritage- to you. So just be patient, enjoy your lavish allowance, and come back when I'm dead!"
Robert took a deep breath, but seeming reassured, he nodded.
"Von Lycaon," commanded Lord Rick in a rare, aggressive manner: "Kindy see my son to the front door!"
"Of course, sir," said Lycaon. He opened the door to the solar and led Robert into the anteroom. He shut the door to the solar and provided Robert his coat. Lycaon didn't much like Robert and he knew Robert didn't like him, but providing a jacket back to a departing guest was simply what was done.
And that's all it would have been, except that Robert turned back to Lycaon and bared his teeth. "My dad might have gone furry in middle age, but when he's gone. You're gone. You understand, Von Lycaon? Gone."
Lycaon felt rage boil up deep inside him. He gripped his own hands behind his back to prevent himself from clawing Lord Rick's eldest son to ribbons. But he couldn't hold it all back. He felt his lips curl up and he revealed his mouth of sharp teeth at the man.
"I wouldn't serve you for a single instant, Lord Robert."
"There it is!" said Robert, pointing a triumphant finger practically into the bite range of Lycaon's maw. "There's the beast in people's clothing! You people are all the same. Animals playing dress up. Well, dad's little dollhouse here is gone when he is. So, better be ready for that."
Lycaon really should not respond any further, but in this case, he couldn't let the man walk away.
"And what of your daughter, Lord Robert? What of Ellen?"
Lord Richard froze again, his hackles rising. He turned back to glare at Lycaon. "That fish is not my daughter."
He opened the door to leave, and Ellen Joe was revealed, standing listlessly in the hallway, eyes downcast. Lycaon was dismayed to see her there, she was supposed to be out in the orchard all morning.
"Out of my way," said Lord Ricahrd, reaching down to shove Ellen Joe out of his way.
She bit him.
Lord Richard screamed and left the house, leaving behind his blood in the hallway, forever.
And a pinky finger.
A Couple Years After That
"My boy," said Lord Rick. "My boy, listen. I've put all of it away. All of the fortune. Trusts, annuities, endowments- every trick in the book that my lawyers know, and I always pay for the best, you know. My fool son Robert will get the house and the land, of course, I can't stop that. And he'll get the family bank account- with the exact amount of money that it had in it when I inherited it. Which these days… isn't all that much, let me tell you…"
Lord Rick chuckled to himself in a sort of coughing fit. "Robert never did want to learn finances, and even now, I don't think he even begins to realize how much of my fortune was my own doing. And I don't have to give him any of that."
"Of course, sir," said Lycaon softly.
"There will be payments into two accounts, every month, forever. One for you, and one for Ellen. It won't make you rich, but it's more than enough for all the basics of life. It will give you both the freedom to pursue your own lives."
"Ellen should be here for this, Lord Rick," said Lycaon. "I will go fetch her."
"No!" Lord Rick coughed wetly. "No. She's scared, Lycaon. My little Ellen Joe is scared of me dying and that's fine. Leave her be. I saw her smile this morning, you know? I want that to be my last memory of her. It's more than enough."
Lycaon couldn't say anything to that. He sat mournfully still as Lord Rick struggled to breath for a while.
"I have one more thing to ask of you, my boy," said Lord Rick. "I know my son will fire you and Ellen, and she is almost a woman in her own right, but: will you manage her funds and see that she gets through school, Lycaon? Will you please watch over her? At least until university. The state thinks seventeen is the age of independence, but she's not ready. Watch over her, won't you?"
"Yes," said Lycaon. "I will see to Ellen. I would do so even if you had not asked. "
Lord Rich coughed then but seemed mildly relieved and pleased. "I knew you would accept, but it was the last thing I needed to see to. And now:" he sighed and gazed up at the ceiling of his bedroom with calm satisfaction. "And now, it's done. All of it. An entire life, done and wrapped up, and signed on the dotted line."
There was a long silence, just the faint sound of Lord Rick's labored breathing.
"It's oddly liberating, this feeling," he said.
And then, "I wish I could see the look on my first wife's face when she finds out what I've done with the money." He chuckled to himself for a while, laughter turning into wheezing. "Don't think they will even have enough for the property tax…"
Lord Rick chuckled again. Then went quiet for a while. "Oh, talk to me, Lycaon. Tell me about your day. Tell me about your yesterday. Just please talk and let me hear your voice."
Lycaon did so, talking desperately of his chores and of his struggles with getting Ellen awake and ready in time for school. Lord Rick listened with a soft smile, laughed quietly a few times, and died.